On May 27, 1986 I was given, for a second time, the greatest gift on earth. A healthy son. An exceptionally healthy son. The pregnancy was uneventful. The delivery was uneventful...and easy. Much easier than my first delivery.

As was the protocol at the time, we took our children to the pediatrician’s office at 2 months old for their first set of shots. We didn’t even question it. No reason to. It’s just how things were done. Not only that, kids can’t go to school without their shots, right?

So, on that fateful day in August, off we went to our ‘well baby’ office visit. (The irony, just this second, hit me. This was Kevin’s last ‘well’ day.)

Kevin screamed, just like any child, when he received his shots...but it was different. By 5 in the afternoon, he was still screaming. I called the doctor...was told not to worry. He screamed all night long. He did not eat. He did not sleep. He just screamed. I called the doctor’s office as soon as it reopened. Once again, I was reassured that some children respond more adversely than others but not to worry....all was within normal limits.

Another day spent with Kevin screaming....not sleeping.....not eating. Another call to the doctors’ office at 5:00P explaining that Kevin was still screaming. Again being reassured that everything was all right. At 11:00P on Day 2 of Kevin’s vaccination the pediatrician called our home to check to see how Kevin was doing. I was holding a still screaming child. Once the pediatrician heard the sounds of Kevin's scream I was instructed to head to the emergency room right away.

We were greeted at the door by a team of doctors who took Kevin from my arms and ran to rooms unknown to run a series of tests. One of the tests was a spinal tap to see if he had meningitis. I knew the instant the needle hit his spinal column (even though I couldn't see him). The shreik echoed down the halls. It was horrible.

Once the tests were finished, we were pulled aside and told....the good news....Kevin does not have meningitis. The bad news....he has encephalopathy and we don't know why. (Encephalopathy is an inflammation of the brain) The docs gave him something to sedate him and he slept for the first time in nearly 48 hours. I was so grateful for the sounds of silence. I knew his little body needed rest. The feeling of being grateful lasted until morning.

When I saw Kevin's little face in the morning, I knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong. It was like I was looking at a shell with the spirit gone. Everything about my perfect son changed....in an instant. He no longer liked to be held. It was like my touching him caused him pain. He would nurse just long enough to sustain life. Maybe 5-7 minutes at a time. There was absolutely no light in his eyes. He just stared off in the distance....seemingly oblivious to everything.

As it was time for milestones to be accomplished, I noticed they were not being met. When I would talk to his pediatrician, I would be reassured that all was fine. When I spoke up and stated that Kevin wasn't doing the things my older son, Andrew, was doing at the same age, I was told it was unfair to compare Kevin to Andrew. I was told that all children progress at their own pace. Though I believe this, to a degree, milestones are there for a reason. If you aren't reaching milestones in a reasonable amount of time, it means something is off. I vividly remember sneaking a peak into Kevin's chart when the doctor stepped out for a minute. It said Kevin was a 'failure to thrive' baby. Failure To Thrive. That made it sound like I wasn't feeding him enough. I wasn't holding him enough. I wasn't nurturing him enough. And all along the way, I kept telling the docs that Kevin didn't want to be held. Kevin didn't want to eat. Kevin was just a shell of a child. The docs offered no help. No advice. Just wrote in his chart that he was a 'failure to thrive' child.

So that's how we lived....day in and day out. I parented a shell of a child. When we moved to Pennsylvania a new pediatrician ran some tests on Kevin and told us that intellectually he would most likely not progess beyond that of a 6-year old. The word the doc gave was 'functionally retarded'. This was told to us when Kevin was about 2 years old.

I spent the next several years parenting Kevin with the premise that he would never progress beyond a 6-year old. Never pushed Kevin. Never questioned anything. His doctors spoke. I listened and I believed.

God, however, had other plans for Kevin and I. He wasn't ready for Kevin to live in the constant, static world of a 6 year old. That revelation came in 1993 and God clearly set the stage for a major, life-altering transition. A good transition. No....a great transition....This is where I learned to look outside the box for answers.